With watch full eyes of scorn and pleasure
Roaming from north to south
with the constant gratification of discontent
Zooming in, and out of unexplainable thoughts
We Laid bare on the fragile fields
Making wasteful shapes of struggling thinking
Painting the pictures of the clouds as thine eyes see them
That is where the first crime was committed
If we be truest to ourselves, then we may learn the story composed and told by other entities
Only then an unfold crystal picture will be seen
Life would be much easier, if we stop judging and pointing fingers from the other fence.
Playing the part of an unpaid director for script yet conceived, gives us nothing but, doubts and heartbreaks.
As punishment for thy crime
We exist, but repent in living
Adorning scars on a ones glorous life.